Chapter Twenty-Five
New York — New York
Despite it being a hot, sticky New York day, Gus, the commissionaire, was wearing his formal navy-blue overcoat. Company regulations. It was long, heavy, and replete with gold-banded sleeves.
Despite Gus being a WW2 veteran who in his day had seen service in North Africa, he felt as though he were cooking from standing in the direct glare of the afternoon sun. On days like this he quite envied the bell hops. They may have held a lower status in the hotel hierarchy, but at least they could hover about in the air-conditioned cool of the lobby as they waited for guests to arrive.
Gus checked his watch and estimated that he still had a good five minutes before the limo from JFK airport was due to arrive. He took a quick glance through the smoked glas
